


The Driver is Not in Charge

by completelyhopeless



Series: Shirt Theft [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Gen, Humor, shirt theft, this might be crack, you could take this as more than gen but it doesn't have to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint didn't want May to drive. He may have started something worse than that, though, and he doesn't even know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Driver is Not in Charge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scribblemyname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/gifts).



> For the prompt: _[any, any +/ any, don't let her drive in rush hour traffic; trust me](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/574305.html?thread=80282465#t80282465)_
> 
> Small and cracky because I have shirt theft on the brain.

* * *

“Give me the keys,” May said, holding out her hand. Clint took one look at it and shook his head. She folded her arms over her chest and looked to Coulson.

Coulson shook his head. “Just give her the keys, Barton. It's not even like it's your car. Not a S.H.I.E.L.D. car. I don't want to know where Romanoff got it. I just want to get this over with.”

“You want to get there _alive?”_ Clint asked, and he knew if he looked over at Natasha, she would be smiling. “Then May doesn't drive.”

“May drives everywhere,” Coulson said, blinking as though he'd never doubted that for a minute. “She always drives the Bus.”

“That's the Bus. This is rush hour traffic. In New York. Letting May drive in that is like...” Barton stopped himself from the obvious analogy and grimaced, unable to come up with another before everyone knew what he almost said.

“Like Bahrain all over again?” May asked, and Clint felt Natasha's hand on the back of his head. Coulson sighed, and an awkward silence overtook them. Clint knew he should hand her the keys as an apology, but he couldn't do that. That was death.

“Is that Barton's shirt?”

Clint looked over at Natasha, saw that same smug expression on her face that she always had when someone called her on the shirt theft, but May just got a shrug. “They're more comfortable.”

“Not when all of the off-duty ones have Captain America on them. The fabric is nice, but it draws too much attention.”

“I know how you can fix that,” Natasha said, and May raised an eyebrow. “I'll tell you later.”

“You'd better.”

Coulson's brow furrow as he tried to figure out what May was doing. Clint was about as confused as the other man was, and that was rare enough from the normally stoic agent. Lost in a way that made him look strangely like some kind of puppy and made Clint wonder just what had gone wrong to make any of this possible, he turned to Clint and lowered his voice.

“What just happened there?”

“I don't know,” Clint said, “but I'm driving.”


End file.
